She Had Crumbs On Her Bumper...

Knock 'em out the box Frank. Knock 'em out Frank.


Here's a little story 'bout  a fine high roller
Stop me if you've heard this or ya think ya know her
She had every thing she wanted, her man was down
They had found the perfect mobile in the perfect town
Plenty of woods to run around
Room for all her kids and cats and hounds
They moved to paradise and settled down
A trailer by the river, though it's mostly underground

The river not the trailer, is the thing that's buried
They found the river on a map in the phone she carried
The man began to dig, to reveal the beauty
The lady hit the pickle, her grin still toothy
The pickle hit the man-child left him goofy
They had buckets on the floor, leaky roofing
one bucket was to store the teeth she's losing


Hair not combed, all wild and crazy
Tweekin for ever, but some how lazy
Canine fur carpet for decorations
Vaccuumed just once in 1980
Breath that smells like fish and bacon
A hoody worn since 6th grade graduation
A broken down van for ma to stay in
Stupid white trash is the card their playin'


Bitch ain't got a grill...She got a bumper

I’d jump from the bridge before I’d hump her

Ryans brain damaged or he’d surly dump her

She calls him the cross-eyed semen pumper

She says fill me up, then fill up mother

Wait, I lost a tooth, now I lost another

The tooth-fairy’s wealth I’ll surly plunder

Dad sprathes when he sthpeaks cause we’re gum & gummer.

The Singing Shakespeare…

         Alright, this is my 2nd go as a guest blogger for my boy BBaked, and as I explained in blog  #1(tryouts for…), I would finish my tale about a young woman and her dream.  An epic saga that continues on today, as I write this.  One in which her journey to become the next “goddess of rock-n-roll” didn’t go over real well. She had the moxy and spunk of say a mascot for a major college football team,  the vigor and enthusiasm she possessed shined through like a thousand suns on a moonless night, the hard work and effort she gave us every night (for all three nights) was equivalent to that of a migrant worker with 9 kids. But with all that going for her if she knew the reality of her skills she would still be in pain today from the ringing in her ears after our two gongs simultaneously gonged her ass off The Gong Show. Anyways, here is the gist of how this crazy chick caught the fever of the flavor of two guys, a guitar, grunge and metal (she was a rap connoisseur before we came along), Layne Staley(alice in chains) and Maynard James Keenan’s (Tool) voices, and the incredibly tough craft of songwriting.  Now I know if I was a casual onlooker in your position I would say “what a mean and cruel asshole this guy is” and that would be true if it weren’t for the fact that she is one of those who “don’t get it'” when jokes about them are being thrown out by the dozens, in fact she thinks quite the opposite so that they sound like compliments which gives her a boost of positive energy consequently kicking in that spunk I mentioned earlier.  You can see her eyes light up when you say things like “no, your right, newscaster does rhyme with disaster and would go great in that song.  Great job girl, your a natural at this.” When she plucks that same “one” string for the 82nd time with Tool playing loudly in the background and one of us throws out maybe something like “thats it! You got it exactly.  How did you know what key he was in and what chord to play girl?  First the newscaster line and now this!  Your the next Pat Benatar,” and her reaction is a sly smile followed with a remark like “Yeah, I did get it didn’t I? as she gets a little twinkle in her eye and goes in to attack that 2nd guitar string.  I guess my point is that she may have been really annoying, no good at he guitar whatsoever (and thats just cuz she was completely new at it and knows nothing about music at all).  Her mind?: well lets just say she was definitely not the brightest flashlight in the tweekers shed, which takes us to the voice: A cross between Darth Vader with strep throat, that lady with the annoying voice that was Chandler’s girlfriend on Friends, and Macy Gray after a whip-it.  BBaked and I both decided that the voice, in our band anyway, would be a factor when choosing a singer to represent us.  Finally we arrive at her imagination and craftiness as a writer, also a fairly important asset we thought.  As you will see shortly through my use of examples using actual quotes, she has the songwriting skills of say, Pippi Longstocking after getting hit in the head with a lead pipe by Curious George, or any other 8 year old for that matter.  Yet this woman still thinks we are the hottest, coolest, nicest, supportive guys alive.  Her damn mother even came over looking for her one night and raved about how much she had changed and how good it was for her daughter to be hanging out with us.  This all after only three or four days of rockin’ out with your daughter ma’am?  In fact now that I think about that’s the total equivalent amount of  time we’ve known this chick, PERIOD!  How we somehow dodged a bullet to our brains or a stabbing to our hearts after telling her that she may not make our band as a guitar player is beyond me.  I’d also say raped by her but that is still a possibility seeing how she is on our jocks harder than Deelishis on FlavorFlav.  After BBaked’s cunning explanation of what our band stood for and the direction in which we were headed, he managed to contrast our edgy, metal flair with her more subtle, easy listening style.  This was the perfect, gentle out as to why she wouldn’t be a guitar player in the band.  Our send the new crappy guitar player to jail card.  Do not pass go or hurt her feelings.  What we failed to recognize was that she held the trump card.  The old “I’ll guilt them into letting me sing,” which finally led to one of us, I forget who exactly, extended the game of  misleading the poor, not so smart, not so cute, overzealous, I’m gonna be on Mtv just like Pink girl, by throwing out a quote similar to, “you have an awesome voice.  How would you feel about singing in our band?”  Twinkle, Twinkle in the eye of the little rock star.  That’s was the exact moment that she picked up a pen and pad and got that serious look on her face. BBakedlifes not a game to just watch on your T.V., fuck all u newscasters (then in parenthesis had rhymes with disaster)…..  “ its him knocking at door as mother wakes to open door. I quickly drift back to sleep knowing u were waiting for mom at the door.  Then it was not a dream but vision of u dying slowly in old apt. at foot of stairs, crying for mom to help you, help you off of floor whispering softly in moms ear “I’ve been shot mom I’m dying.  In this vision I watched you die in moms arms. I hear scream  and thought was a dream at time.  I rapidly came there  as I woke up n realized that was a real scream not a dream.  I heard mom screaming from stairs(again) “NO he’s not dead , not my boy, not my boy.”I was in a haze and daze, unbelief filled my mind with questions and contradictions.  I quickly sit down at top of stairs(again) scared what I’m preparing to see.  You laying there dead at stairs(again) while mom scream for you that is gone 4ever…… Nothing can prepare you 4 the day you have lost your best friend, protector, my heart, #1fan, and top cheerleader.”  That sentence should fit into a song quite easily huh?   …Into the son we go light flashing by like a moorage that all my good feeling sensers were set off…  Spelled just like that too.   She will be gone soon if I let her get consumed.  I still yet make it down the stairs(again) to see if your dead at the bottom of the stairs(again).  Men tried to calm her cuz she just lost her child at bottom of stairs(again).  They telling her No mam I’m sorry, he’s gone, and he died in a car crash not by a gun.I run down stairs(again) like lightning bolt trying not to choke on tears.  I grab a big recent photo of you n your 1st n only son. I tell them they won.  They must be wrong, thats only til I can think………MASTERPIECE HUH? Well that my friends is a sneak peek of our new bands singer’s 1st hit song before she knew her potential.  A little diddy I call “DEAD, at both the top n bottom of the STAIRS cubed times pi,”  That is our little vixens words verbatim.  God I’m going to hell after this one.  BLOG ON

Guitar tryouts for goons, grifters, and guns without the breach

     So I’m FrankieFingers, BBaked’s new roommate and the other half of the band that we are still forming.  So far we are on our fourth guitar player in about two and a half weeks.  Now our finances have been abundant as of late for a change, so that luxury has afforded us a few trips to Guitar Center for some purchases that were costly but well worth it if your trying to start a band.  I got the drum kit and B the guitar toys as well as a new bright orange bass(beautiful).  We both have some experience playing in bands, him more than I, but we’re moving right along and sounding better every night.  I say night because the hours we can play revolve around a business on the property where we reside and I don’t think loud, heavy music coming from downstairs in which two crazy guys pound out their best licks and chops would be “good for business.”  Anyways, we had a friend of mine come try out and this consisted of showing up unannounced several times with his foolish life. Who knows everything there is to know on this planet? The fact that he was only able to play smoke on the water and even that was shaky at best wasn’t the problem, really, because B is a patient person who would have taught him along the way.  The problem was he then proceeded to show up several times, once on a bicycle he rode for miles to get here, who's ownership was unclear, or he’d arrive guitarless and say things like “I’m ready to jam”. Number two was a neighborhood dude that B knew from way back and this guy was something else.  A close to fifty, ex-con with a swastika tat on his stomach and a ridiculous, feeble attempt at a mohawk.  He didn’t spike it up and it was long so it looked like a bad combover and that was just the beginning of the end for this idiot.  He could play in what could pass as sufficient enough to sit in and maybe learn from B along the way but once again he’d come over to hangout instead of play music.  He only wanted the thrill of hanging out in the rock n roll “lair of love.”  On top of that madness he started acting real suspicious by coming and going ten fifteen times a night.  Now his addiction was quite apparent from the start, and he knew that we knew that, so his “casing the joint” for future pawns was never too much of a concern.  He also was one of these guys who “scraps” metal on the side.  We failed to spot the hustle on this one, I’m afraid to admit.  If you know someone who does this make sure you immediately cut all ties, if you want your pipes used to plumb the house to be there, intact, when you get home.  Copper earns a pretty penny and if you have aluminum siding..well lets just say sever the bond ASAP!   To make the story short things started coming up missing and some other shady shit went down that prompted us to fire guitar player number two after only our 8th official day as a band.  The most odd and funniest story is guitar player number three; a girl who had dreams of being a star overnight; a girl we couldn’t get rid of and she may not know yet that she has no chance of playing alongside us: EVER!  She continues to call or show up unannounced willing and ready to do anything to be in this band and anything means just that, despite us hinting at her inadequacy(as a musician anyway) with phrases like “your not to come over here anymore” or the old let her down easy “you totally suck shit girl, and put your dick away!"  That story in my next blog as well as her next tryout as a singer which will include my thoughts on her songwriting skills with examples and actual quotes from a song left here one night I can only describe as quite possibly the worst song ever written in the history of songwriting.  I’ll leave you with this line off the hit song Dead Mother “my good feeling sensors were set off,” can anyone say antennae?  1st Blog in the bag and it was(almost) painless. Until the next time B gives me a chance to put in my two cents this was FrankieFingers and I’m outta here.